


cause you can hear it in the silence

by jbhmalum



Series: prompt fics [6]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, sleepy calum, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhmalum/pseuds/jbhmalum
Summary: Calum snorts. “Hey, I offered to help, you know,” he says through a yawn. Michael is happy he doesn’t have to hide his smile at how adorable that just sounded.“No,” Michael says, closing the cursed dishwasher and turning it on before rolling up his sleeves to clean what’s in the sink. “You’re my guest and you’re tired. You just keep Moose and Southy company, yeah?”
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Series: prompt fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005603
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	cause you can hear it in the silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaleidoscopeminds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopeminds/gifts).



> So last night I wanted to write some malum fluff (again) and my love [Meg](https://kaleidoscopeminds.tumblr.com/) gave me the prompt: "I'd like it if you stayed." and I wrote this little thing for it. Hope you like it <3

“I swear, I’m never inviting Luke and Ashton over for both lunch  _ and  _ dinner ever again,” Michael grunts as he tries to fit all the dishes in the dishwasher.

Key word being ‘tries’.

“You say that as if that’s not what you say each time you invite us over,” Calum retorts from the living room, sleepy voice slightly muffled by the wall separating them.

“Yeah, because they eat so much I have to cook enough to feed an entire classroom of growing teenagers, which already takes a stupid amount of time–”

“Stop complaining, you love cooking!”

“–and on top of that I can’t put everything in the dishwasher,” Michael whines. “Now I have to clean the big greasy pots with my very delicate hands.”

Calum snorts. “Hey, I offered to help, you know,” he says through a yawn. Michael is happy he doesn’t have to hide his smile at how adorable that just sounded.

“No,” Michael says, closing the cursed dishwasher and turning it on before rolling up his sleeves to clean what’s in the sink. “You’re my guest and you’re tired. You just keep Moose and Southy company, yeah?”

Calum just hums, probably because that’s exactly what he’s been doing, and Michael turns the tap on, drowning any response Calum could have given anyway.

The water is the only sound filling Michael’s apartment for a while, and he lets himself bask in the familiarity of having Calum's presence there while Michael does something as mundane and boring as cleaning the dishes. There's something beautifully domestic about this, which fills Michael's heart with the light and joy that only comes when his thoughts drift to Calum. Which is quite often.

Usually he would help Michael out with cleaning up once Luke and Ashton have left to go back to their own place, but Michael could see Calum's eyes drooping throughout dinner, tired from his week full of exams and finishing papers last minute, so he figured there was no need for a second pair of hands here. 

And, if Michael's being honest, cleaning the dishes really isn't the worst thing in the world to be doing at eleven pm on a Friday night with his best friend lounging on his couch.

Moose and South adore Calum, too, so that was definitely the right thing to do. They're probably the happiest under Calum's petting hands right now, thinking about adopting Calum as their dad. Michael would be a little hurt, but not mad. He'd take Calum over himself any day, too. 

Once the dishes are hung on the drying rack and the kitchen counter is in an acceptable state of cleanliness, Michael makes his way back to the living room, expecting Calum to greet him with a hug or something similarly touchy-feely but welcome before grabbing his car keys and leaving. He does not expect to see Calum sprawled out on his stomach on the couch, silk-covered arm hanging off the side where he must have been petting the dogs, who are both lying close to his hand.

If Michael thought the scene before was domestic, then he doesn't know what this is.

He's seen Calum in various states of asleep throughout the dozen years they've known each other. Sleeping at school during nap time while Michael refused to close his eyes, always too energetic for that. Sleeping in  _ high school _ at the back of maths class because he couldn't care less about it. Still asleep when Michael would wake up first during sleepovers, the soft morning light grazing Calum’s face gracefully. Sleeping in their dorm before Michael had dropped out of college and obviously got kicked out of the room. 

He's never seen Calum asleep on his couch after their friends are gone like he belongs here, though. Like he's part of Michael's little corner of life that he hasn't really been a part of until now. Except, well. Maybe he has.

It's no revelation, but Calum has been part of Michael's life one way or another for the better part of fifteen years, and just because he's never slept on Michael's stupid couch doesn't mean any different.

Michael finds it endearing nonetheless, Calum's cheek plastered against the seat and curls in disarray. He hates that he has to wake him up. 

He doesn't want Calum to leave, obviously, but he remembers him saying something about not leaving too late because he doesn't want to ruin his sleep schedule too much before going back to school on Monday, so Michael has to wake him up. Otherwise he'll be left with a grumpy Calum when he inevitably wakes up in a couple hours from the uncomfortable position. 

With one last probably too fond smile Michael moves towards the couch stealthily until he's crouching in front him, careful not to step on the dogs.

“Hey Cal,” Michael whispers, hand coming up to thread through the curls falling on Calum's forehead. “You should wake up.”

Calum can't have been asleep for more than fifteen minutes, if that, but he still doesn't stir at the softly spoken words. He must have been more tired than Michael had thought, then. One more reason why it pains Michael to take him away from his sleep, but he has to do it.

“Calum?” He tries again, a little louder this time. He shakes Calum's shoulder slightly, and finally Calum moves a little, whining into the seat as his brow furrows. Michael has to bite his lips to refrain from cooing out loud. “I know, I'm sorry. But you should wake up if you don't want to get home too late.” 

That seems to wake Calum up better, and he sits up a bit too fast, eyes trying their best to open up. “Oh my god,” he slurs as he rubs his sleepy face with the sleeves of his shirt covering his hands. “I'm so sorry, I don't know why I fell asleep.”

“Because you've had a long week and you're exhausted. It's okay.”

Calum doesn't say anything, not to that and not to Michael's hand caressing his knee through his plaid pants — they're Calum's best pair of pants, in Michael's very unprofessional and biased opinion. So Michael keeps his hand on Calum and watches him try to wake up properly, rubbing at his eyes and stretching and yawning, unsuccessfully.

Calum lets out a heavy sigh, tired eyes peeking at Michael under his lashes. “I’m so tired. Can I wait here for like half an hour? So that I can wake up a little and like, not crash my car.”

“Again, you mean.”

“Hey, I thought we’d agreed to not bring that up again,” Calum pouts. 

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re a klutz who can’t drive,” Michael teases, a stuck out tongue his only answer, causing him to let out a chuckle. “Seriously though, if you’re too tired to drive, you can sleep here.”

Calum shakes his head. “Oh, no, I don’t– I don’t want to intrude, you probably want to relax and have the night to yourself–”

“Cal,” Michael breaks off, tilting Calum’s head towards him. “Don’t be silly, it’s not intruding if it’s you.” A pause, and Michael swallows, though the words are easier to say than he’d thought. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Stay. Please.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Calum nods, already dropping off again, and Michael has to physically get him up before he really falls back asleep on the couch.

With close to no arguing Michael manages to convince Calum to take the bed, claiming he’s probably going to spend most of the night on his laptop anyway, there’s no need for Michel to occupy the bed when Calum clearly needs it more than he does. Maybe they could have shared the bed, but they haven’t done that since before high school, and for some reason Michael thinks it would feel very different to do it now, so he doesn’t bring it up.

He still helps Calum out of his fancy clothes and into Michael’s comfiest All Time Low hoodie (it’s fine, he’ll just have to wear his  _ second  _ comfiest ATL hoodie) and he still tucks Calum in, sitting on the edge of the bed as his hand goes back to Calum's hair. There’s something so real and delicate about seeing Calum in Michael’s Adult Life bed, wrapped up in his new bed sheets on top of his favourite (and did he mention comfiest?) item of clothing.

Michael can’t help but watch him, and watch him, and watch him while playing with his hair and brushing his cheek with the back of his fingers and murmuring meaningless words just to lull him to sleep, and wonders how he got so lucky that this talented, smart, funny,  _ adorable  _ man falling asleep in his bed has stuck by him for the bigger part of his entire life. 

Calum is quiet most times, the kind to keep to himself and shine in the background only for those who pay attention, yet he's always been the loudest thought in Michael's mind. Or maybe he's not the loudest. Maybe he's just everywhere, a harmony of sounds creating a vacuum of Calum Noise that takes up all of Michael's senses.

Michael is fine with that. He doesn’t really want to feel anything that isn’t Calum.

When it feels like Calum has finally drifted off to sleep, mouth half open against the pillow and fingers grazing Michael’s arm where they’re resting on the bed, Michael gently gets off the bed. He’s about to remove his hand from Calum’s face after one last touch — he can’t really help it — when he finds his wrist clutched in Calum’s grip.

“Cal?” He asks, unsure if something is wrong.

“Thank you,” Calum mumbles into the pillow like it’s his last breath, eyes still closed. “For letting me stay. I always want to stay. Forever. With you.”

Michael’s heart stops for a second, the last beat resonating loudly in his ears, and in the few seconds it takes him to figure out what to say, Calum’s hand has fallen back to the bed and his breathing has evened out, taken over by sleep once again.

Michael loves Calum. As simple as that, he loves him with every ounce of his being, and it seems that love is only getting stronger and greater with each second that passes. And Calum loves him, and Calum wants to stay forever, and Michael wants him to stay forever and beyond that, too. And maybe they should look into that and do something about it.

But maybe that’s something for tomorrow. For when Calum wakes up in Michael’s bed and they make breakfast and eat it together like they used to do when they were still sharing a room.

For now, Michael takes a spare blanket and changes into his second comfiest All Time Low hoodie and a pair of soft sweatpants before settling on the couch, laptop open in front of him. He’ll try to get some work done, but Calum’s words ringing in his head and his own wide smile plastered on his face as he thinks about what tomorrow might bring aren’t going to make that easy.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
